I Can't Give You Anything But Love
by SHNITZELS
Summary: Steve has flashbacks about his childhood after finding a song that his mother used to play. Tony helps Steve to find some peace, and tries to better understand his ordeal. This isn't a romantic Stony fic! I don't own Marvel or any of the characters involved.
Discordant notes rang out and around the sleek surroundings of Stark Tower's spacious living room. Not a soul was to be seen, save one: a man, whose intention was to play at least one line of the piano music set before him with the help of Google (whatever that was). Silhouetted against the ceiling-to-floor windows, his well-built figure was clear to see; even sitting down at the grand piano his broad shoulders and muscular arms were obvious to any onlooker.

"Damn it!" Steve let his hands fall down onto the keys, letting loose a mess of higgledy-piggledy notes, sharps and flats bustling through the air. With a sigh, he leaned forward to Tony's tablet and closed the tab, only to open another - YouTube.

"Right, all I've gotta do is type it in here..." Steve's brow furrowed in concentration as he typed in the song, his nails tip-tapping the screen. So many options! He would have to remember the year. He was what, maybe 10 years old? It'd have to do. 1928. Eventually Steve seemed satisfied with his results.

"I think this is it..."

/J584hzoUloQ

Closing his eyes, Steve swayed side to side, occasionally mouthing along. The music was loud, spewing from Tony's Bluetooth speaker system and seeming to echo around the room, out along the corridors. Even with Tony's equipment, the recording crackled and popped, the tune just making it through the fuzziness. Steve began to hum along, tap-tap-tapping on the top of the piano with his fingers. Immersed in the music, Steve started to sing along very softly, so that the lyrics were barely a whisper:

"I can't give you anything but love, baby, that's the only thing I've plenty of..."

As the song started to fade away, so did Steve's voice. Silence gripped the room once more, with Steve gazing quietly at the screen. It was as though for a few minutes time had stopped completely.

"Is that what you...is that what you used to like?" An almost amused voice asked from the doorway.

"Oh!" Steve jumped, immediately reaching up to wipe any stray tears from his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were there, I was just...I'll leave you to your practice Tony." Steve took the tablet from the piano, shutting the case with a click and standing from the bench. He made a vague gesture towards it, a weak smile on his face. "All yours."

Tony frowned back at him, walking slowly past the taller man, scrutinising his expression. Taking a deep breath, he pondered for a second on what to do, before making up his mind, satisfied with the decision.

"Were you trying to play that, before? It's just that I think I could help." Looking up at Steve, Tony made eye contact briefly, but it was long enough for him to see that the answer was a yes. He nodded and stretched his hands out with a flourish. Giving a little nod, Steve turned the tablet over in his hands. Then he passed it over.

It took no more than 30 seconds for Tony to find the piano music again. He skimmed through the page with his eyes, and found that it didn't look too difficult. He flexed his fingers and positioned them carefully onto the correct keys. Tony looked up at Steve again, silently asking for confirmation. Steve gave no vocal reply, but gave a reassuring nod. Tony set a beat in his head, nodding along to it theatrically, and then he began.

The old, fuzzy melody that had previously filled the room was fed through an invisible filter, bringing it to life. Steve was no longer seeing the 21st century. Instead, in the reflection on the shiny surface of the piano, was a woman. She was tall, slim, and light on her feet. Her hair was blond, and fell in loose curls down her back, swaying as she moved about her cramped little kitchen. Dusty streams of light fell through the yellowed lace curtains, as though the sun was reaching through into her life. A cloth was held between her fingers, as she wiped down the surfaces with one hand and held a bottle of a strong chemical cleaner in the other. Steve couldn't remember the name of the soap, but he remembered the smell, and the sound of his mother's voice too. Sarah Rogers sang along to the tune as the needle scratched its way around the one record that they owned. It had been a gift from a family friend as thanks for something, but Steve couldn't quite remember what. Sarah's Irish accent just came through as she sang. With a slight sigh, as though pleased with her work, Sarah opened a cupboard door. The hinge squeaked as she placed her bottle back on the shelf, and then she dropped her cloth into the metal kitchen sink. Steve's mother turned to face him as she noticed the little boy stood in the doorway, with another drawing of his. Smiling sweetly, she knelt down before Steve and mock studied it, as though pretending to be a critic in a gallery. Her eyebrow raised up comically, and she stroked her chin thoughtfully. "You'll be a famous artist one day, you just remember that. My goodness, your father would be proud." The memory began to blur then. Steve didn't want her to leave, but the song was finishing now. He tried to focus, remembering her shining eyes and the glint of her crucifix necklace. He felt a childish tugging at his feelings, a desperate yearning for the safety and comfort of his mother's arms.

The final notes of the song dissipated into nothing. Expectantly Tony awaited a reply from Steve, who was still staring into space. Eventually Steve's blue eyes met Tony's brown ones, and a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you." Steve held eye-contact, but it wasn't awkward, and the silence wasn't painful.

Tony gave a nod. He had never seen the great Captain America in such a state. In fact, he'd hardly considered how his memories of so many years ago were so strong. Everything and everyone in Steve's world were gone, if not warped almost beyond recognition. His memories had to be strong, because they were all he had left of it.


End file.
